


A Simple Letter

by tobeconspicuous



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canonical Character Death, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Soulmates, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:06:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25145914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeconspicuous/pseuds/tobeconspicuous
Summary: Mike had always been fascinated by the simple P on his wrist -  that such a tiny little letter could be so significant.
Relationships: Mike Dodds/Peter Stone
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	A Simple Letter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bulletproof_love](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulletproof_love/gifts).



> For the always wonderful Bulletproof-Love. This was supposed to be a birthday gift but as you’re aware life gets in the way. But it’s here now!!
> 
> Special thanks to Darkmoore for betaing (and bettering) this.
> 
> I do not own, only enjoy, and I hope you do too. Feedback is very much appreciated.

Mike had always been fascinated by the simple P on his wrist - that such a tiny little letter could be so significant. As a child he used to fall asleep tracing the letter, enjoying the slight tingle it sent through his body.

Everyone had a letter on their wrist, the first letter of their soulmate's first name, a clue to who you were supposed to be with. As Mike grew older he began to resent the little letter. It acted as a reminder that the universe, along with his father, had his life already planned out. He was nineteen when he first wrapped a leather cuff round his wrist, removing the letter from his sight and from his mind.

Throughout the years occasionally he would gaze at it, especially during the big events. When he moved from special forces. When he graduated the academy. When he aced his detective and then sergeants exams. When he proposed to Alice. Each time he would unbuckle the cuff which had become a second skin and trace that tiny letter on his wrist. After a moment he would strap the cuff back on and tried to forget about his soulmate.

He almost succeeded.

Then Munson shot him.

He had awoken in hospital, his cuff gone. The dark P stood obvious against his pale wrist. He felt naked.

And for the first time he wondered.

Who was his soulmate, what were they like? What would have happened if he hadn’t dismissed them, if he hadn’t made the choice to never look for them? Would they be there now, patiently waiting with his family?

The sound of doors opening snapped Mike from his thoughts. His fiancée rushed over and gripped his hand tightly. He ignored the clench in his gut, and squeezed his fiancée’s hand. When he spoke and people looked on confused, something deep inside told him that this was the end. As his world faded to black Mike knew that he had missed his chance.

For the first time in his life Mike felt something akin to regret.

\--

It wasn’t the first time Peter had seen the dark haired man in his dreams. Nor the second, or the third. Like a ghost, he had lived in the back of his mind for a long time. But this was the first time Peter had heard him speak.

“You okay?”

Peter’s head snapped up. Warm hazel eyes, framed by the handsome features of an all too familiar face.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s not easy to lose a parent,” the man continued. “Especially when you were starting to build bridges.”

Peter frowned then looked away. He was lost in memories of his father, a legend of a man he barely scratched the surface of. When Peter turned back to face the stranger, he was gone. Leaving nothing but a vague memory that he would try and recollect when he woke up.

\--

Mike was surprised at first, that his soulmate was male. It amused him to no end that the person his father would have loved to see him pursue was a man. Still as he observed Peter, got to know him, he realized why the universe had connected them.

Chiseled features hid a keen intellect and a wicked tongue. Gentle, warm smiles reserved for those he cared about revealed how handsome Peter truly was. Mike spent his days hanging over Peter’s shoulder, watching him as he sat hunched over files, trawling through statements. He stood beside Peter, his gaze following as Peter strode around the courtroom, perfectly crafted arguments falling from his tongue.

At night he lived Peter’s dreams. 

When Peter’s father passed Mike felt him ache with all of his being. He reached out, wanting to touch Peter. Instead he settled on words.

Words which Peter had heard.

Mike’s heart would have skipped a beat if it could.

He didn’t try to speak to Peter again, but he did notice keen eyes following him. 

\--

“Why are you here?” The words slipped from Peter’s mouth before he could stop himself. 

The dark haired man stopped, turned and looked at him. “Honestly? I think it’s because we were soulmates.”

“Were?” Peter’s breath hitched, his hand instinctively tracing the small _M_ which was usually hidden by his watch. “You’re dead?”

Peter had heard stories of ghosts who wandered the earth searching for their soulmate. He had never believed them to be true.

“Yes.”

Peter let the silence drag out for as long as he could bear. “What’s your name?”

“Mike.”

\--

Olivia Benson was a sight for sore eyes. Though he worried about the bags under hers. Mike wished he could reassure her that he was fine, that he could remove some of the weight on her shoulders.

He watched as she rejected Peter’s handshake. He listened as her harsh words stung Peter. He wished that the two of them could have met under better circumstances.

Mike watched from the shadows as Peter made himself an enemy of SVU. Though he had grown to respect his colleagues they were a tough group of people; they had to be in their line of work. Mike felt for Peter, he knew exactly what it was like being on the outside.

Mike held his breath as Peter and Barba quipped back and forwards, the exchange between the two intense. When the verdict was finally announced he was frustrated that Peter hadn’t won, though he couldn’t help but be relieved when Barba walked out a free man. 

Nor was he surprised that Peter had been offered the ADA role. Jack McCoy would have been a fool to let such an esteemed attorney slip through his fingers.

It was incredibly selfish, but Mike wanted Peter to stay in New York. He had enjoyed the few weeks they had spent in the city. Mike hadn’t realized how much he had missed his home.

For the first time in a while, he approached Peter. “You’re not staying?”

Peter threw him a look of disdain. “Why should I? They hate me for doing my job.”

“They don’t hate you—”

“Those were looks of admiration Benson was shooting me?” Peter cocked his head.

“I worked with them before—”

“Before you died?” Peter scoffed, he turned to look at Mike. “What a glowing recommendation.”

Mike took a deep breath and reached out to place a hand on Peter’s arm. Surprisingly, he felt warm. He felt real. It threw Mike for a moment before he remembered Peter was dreaming. He took a deep breath and spoke gently. “Give them a chance. Let them get to know you.”

Peter ignored him. “It’s less money.”

“Better cases,” Mike countered.

“Different cases,” Peter corrected. 

Mike tried another tactic. “You’ll be closer to your sister.”

“Don’t go there.” Peter stiffened, his voice was strained. 

“Sorry,” Mike murmured an apology.

They stood in silence a moment before Peter finally turned to Mike. “I’ll think about it.”

Mike nodded before he reached out and laced Peter’s fingers through his own. He squeezed gently and held on until Peter finally woke from his dream. A few days later Peter spoke to him again, his words sent a wave of relief through Mike.

Peter decided to stay.

\--

Peter wasn’t sure if he’d made the right decision. Even though he had grown up there, New York had never been his city, he had never felt comfortable there. Chicago was his city, Chicago was his home.

It had been months since the move, and it was bound to happen sooner or later; but it was still a shock when Peter ran into Deputy Chief William Dodds for the first time. The man was polite enough, all business, not one to stay and chat. Peter was surprised at how much of Mike he could see Dodds.

Even though their conversation lasted barely more than five minutes Peter could feel the grief radiating from him. He wondered if Dodds felt the same grief radiating from Peter; tell that he was still grieving his father.

That night when Peter dreamed of Mike, he quietly mentioned it. “I met your father today.” Mike looked at Peter with big hazel eyes. “He misses you.”

A small sad smile appeared on Mike’s face. “I know.”

\--

“I never wanted to find my soulmate.”

Peter’s eyes snapped up to meet Mike’s gaze. 

“I was in Chicago years ago,” Mike continued bitterly. “I even remember watching you play once.”

Mike remembered it clearly, it was the game Peter tore his elbow. He remembered feeling pain radiating through his arm. At the time he thought it was empathy pain, he now knew better.

“I should have tried,” Mike murmured. “But you weren’t even on my radar.”

“I wasn’t searching either,” Peter hummed. “I was selfish and cocky, enjoying the single life. Then angry and bitter.” He leaned into Mike’s warmth. “You wouldn’t have liked me.”

Mike huffed in amusement. “I would have loved you.”

\--

Mike always had a smile on his face. Even during the hardest days his eyes were full of mirth.

Peter had to admire him for that. 

He was beginning to rely on those sweet smiles to get him through case after case. When the detectives treated him poorly, Peter remembered the way Mike’s eyes crinkled. When Jack looked at him as though Peter was his father, Peter remembered the softness of each smile. Peter held onto Mike’s smiles.

Little by little, it was all starting to get to Peter.

Pamela’s death though, broke him.

\--

Mike watched as sobs wrenched through Peter’s body. He watched as Peter lay in bed, unable to move. Mike was helpless, unable to reach out and help until Peter fell asleep.

There was nothing he could do but sit and watch.

\--

It took a long time before Peter felt human again. New York City felt smaller as each day passed. Though the members of the 16th precinct were warmer towards Peter, he could feel their looks of pity. He still felt like an outsider.

Mike understood completely.

He listened attentively as Peter described each minute of his day and provided advice when he thought it would help.

And when Mike reached out and grabbed his hand? Peter felt butterflies.

\--

Mike watched as Peter slowly healed and as he did he felt compelled to reach out, to touch. He was addicted to Peter. It felt like the hot lick of a flame almost burning him.

He held back, not wanting to push the man too far.

But Peter’s hand in his? Wrapping himself around Peter? If he could spend the rest of his afterlife wrapped in Peter, he would be content.

\--

“Can I kiss you?” The question fell from Peter’s lips before he realized that he had asked it. 

He had thought about kissing Mike so often. He surprised himself, unable to quite believe he had voiced the thought.

Mike looked amused. He licked his lips before finally answering. “Yes.” He wondered if Mike knew just how often he had pictured this.

Peter took a step forward.

Standing so close to Mike, Peter was reminded that he was an inch shorter than the other man. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Mike asked.

“Nothing,” Peter grinned, taking another step forward. They were chest to chest. Almost. “I’m an inch shorter than you.”

“That’s funny?” Mike cocked his brow.

“Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real,” Peter grinned, raising a hand to caress Mike’s cheek. “I wouldn’t imagine my soulmate being taller.”

Peter could feel Mike’s breath hot against his lips. He gently pressed his mouth against Mike’s. A jolt of electricity pulsed through him.

The kiss was perfect.

\--

As Mike watched Peter talk to Benson, a strange feeling settled over him. Peter looked lighter, happier, and yet Mike was sad. Something in his gut said that his time on earth was done.

That evening when he kissed Peter, he poured every emotion he felt towards Peter into the kiss. When they finally parted Mike felt his smile tighten. He ran a finger over Peter’s lips as he licked his own. He wanted to memorize everything about them.

“You look…” Mike winced as Peter trailed off. “Sad.” 

“I have a feeling this will be the last time we meet like this.” Mike felt his voice crack.

Peter’s eyes went wide. “Mike?”

“I feel lighter,” Mike stroked Peter’s cheek with his thumb. “You feel lighter, more at peace with the world.”

“But why?” Peter scowled. The frustration radiated from him. “What was the point of us getting to know each other like this?”

“I don’t know,” Mike admitted. “But don’t you dare regret any of it.”

“Don’t you dare tell me how to feel,” Peter snapped, wrenching himself away from Mike. “You don’t get to come here and tell me that you’re abandoning me--”

“Not by choice.”

“--just like everyone else has,” Peter finished bitterly. “Alone again.”

“I’ll always be with you.” Mike’s stomach felt heavy, he held back a sob.

“As some mystical presence?” Peter snarled. “I hardly believe that. You can’t even explain what’s happening to you.”

Mike tried to think of a word, any word that could help reassure Peter. Nothing came to him. He reached out and grabbed Peter firmly by the arm and said the only words he could think of, the ones that meant everything to him.

“I love you.”

Peter’s expression changed from angry to broken. “Mike—” 

“Peter?” Mike waited for him to say anything.

Peter looked tired. “I’ll see you when I get there.”

Mike grabbed Peter’s wrist and raized it to his mouth. He pressed a kiss to Peter’s letter, to _his_ letter. Mike wanted to make sure Peter would always feel him until his final moments.

‘I love you.’ Mike wanted to say again. Instead he squeezed Peter’s hand. “I can’t wait to meet you.”


End file.
